FateEmiya: To Be a Hero
by konamikode
Summary: Counter Guardian EMIYA finds himself summoned to another Grail War immediately after his parting with his Master, Rin. But rather than finding himself in a ruined living room, he is returned to the day where everything changed. The 4th Holy Grail War has ended in the destruction of the vessel. So why was he summoned?
1. Chapter 1

AN: All my stories are meant to be read with music and accompanying picture links. As ffnet doesn't allow for hot linking, feel free to follow the links on my pat-re-on page (/konamikode) and read my stuff as it was intended :3

Edit: Wow, seriously can't say the word patr-on here. That's nuts.

* * *

After the conclusion of the 5th Grail War, the spirit of the Wrought Iron Hero is called for once more only to find himself walking through the familiar, burning city of Fuyuki.

The 4th War has just ended, so why did he continue to persist?

Because the existence known as EMIYA was unable to turn away the pleading, final cry of a woman who wished with the last vestiges of her consciousness to keep her family safe.

She wished not for a Hero of Justice who could save her family...

But for a **_Hero who would make sure they lived happily_**.

* * *

Chapter 1: _His Body Was Made of Swords, But His Heart Was Held By Love_

* * *

**Fuyuki, Japan  
09/21/2015  
****_EMIYA (TRUE)_**

_The sunrise was beautiful._

_How long has it been since I was able to rest? To stop and take a long look at the world I'd given my very existence to protect?_

_…_

_I'm sure that I've stood here, reminiscing countless times in the past, the present, and in the future, feeling the very same emotions running through my heart._

_'But is that so important?'_

I thought, as my Master huffed and struggled her way up to the cliff I was standing upon.

"Archer!" She called, once.

Twice.

The second coming as she raised herself up, chest still heaving from the exertion of the past several minutes.

A soft, disbelieving tone filled with sorrow and regret.

I could feel the container of my copy fading away into the aether.

It was painful, of course. But I couldn't let her see it. The burdening knowledge that I knew what lied in wait for me after my memories and experiences were recalled into Alaya's cruel grasp.

"It's unfortunate," I started, pausing momentarily as I placed my hand upon a hip. "but that's how it is. Give up on the Grail this time, Rin"

It's how it was always going to end. Even if **_Rin_** was to forcibly contract me, it would only be a temporary reprieve, and one that I would never accept.

What kind of Servant would I be to allow my Master to suffer a future where her dreams would be crushed? To provide the necessary prana to keep a Heroic Spirit, a bastardized fake as I was in the living world, would cripple her ability to perform her duties as **One Who Walks With Death**.

No.

I couldn't do that to her.

Tohsaka.

She gasps, a momentary bout of youthful madness possessing in an effort to say something.

**_Anything_**.

But instead, she shrivels upon herself, undoubtedly pained at her realization that no, I wouldn't stay in this world, this time, any longer than necessary.

_And why would I need to? 'I' was already here._

_A me that had embodied the childish ideals I used to champion, but grown over his experiences in this past week to mutate ever so slightly differently than my own soul._

_No. To stay was to bring pain upon the voice, face, and memory of a girl whose name I would not remember soon enough._

_I am the very definition of selfishness. But at least in this aspect, I will choose to be selfless._

_As I have done before, _

**_over and over again_**_, as my copied core begins to merge with the full spirit who lays chained upon the Throne of Heroes, and the full scope of my memories begin to return._

"Heh." I chuckle, both from the sad sense of humor I feel at this recurring event, and from the words that I am about to say that will **_never change_**.

I care too much for the existence known as Tohsaka Rin to say anything but what she needs to hear.

Predictably, _his_ Rin responds in her usual fashion. With heated emotion, a small fire that is fed by her tenuously held feelings that is quickly doused with her realization of _my decision._

**_My acceptance_**.

I can now recall lifetimes where Rin had refused my decision and bound my body to herself anyway. But I can tell, this will not be one of those lifetimes.

**_And I'm okay with that._**

**_As is the full realization of my 'self' that rests on the Throne after so many years spent with the girl known as Tohsaka Rin._**

It's amusing, that despite all the efforts my copies have made throughout the many **Roots** of the world…

The first time we'd ever had this moment together was enough for the existence known as **_EMIYA_** to be, if not content, but accepting of his place as one of Alaya's dogs.

I could never be the hero I wished to be, but that didn't matter.

**_This reminder of who I am would be enough._**

**_There was, and never would, be a Grail War where I would become something other than myself._**

**_Kneeling and bleeding on a Lonely Hill of Swords, I would ever continue to look upwards._**

**_Not in the vain hope that I would one day be free._**

**_But because in the end…_**

**_I had succeeded in becoming a Hero._**

**_Maybe not like how I imagined, but a Hero I was._**

**_I'd always be the firm back on which Tohsaka would wrap her arms around in the search for comfort._**

Tears bubbled at the edges of her eyes, her posture becoming something that I would never wish to see.

Defeated, torn, helpless.

Once more amongst a countless repetition of events, she cursed herself for being unable to save me even as a gasp escaped my throat.

It was an exchange of emotions that would never grow old. Never grow tired.

Everytime I stood here, watching this very same sunrise, I couldn't help but turn around to witness the girl who would fall to her weakest moment in life. Such was the despair that carried in her voice, forcing my mind to recall the numberless times I'd heard defeat in such a vibrant soul that should **_never lose_**.

But she never fell to her knees.

Not once, not in all the many branches of the Kaleidoscope, did she ever fall to her knees in defeated despair.

**_I would never allow that to occur, whatever the cause._**

"Rin." I began, the words flowing from my mouth as easily as they had the first time.

I'd done it so many times that my response to her words could be all but automatic.

**_Could be._**

"As you know, I'm a bit hopeless. Give me a shoulder to lean on." I said softly, the words I spoke coming freshly from my heart as they have always done.

How could I ever treat any moment spent with my Master as a tired exercise? No, even if I replied to her flagging sense of self the same way _each and every time_, I always said the words that were burning in the forge that is my heart.

In the end, I _am_ **Emiya Shirou.**

And a sword could no more lie to their wielder without breaking itself. My voice would always be there for her, truthful and constant.

A sword couldn't lie, couldn't change their nature.

"Archer…" She spoke softly, eyes glistening with an unbefitting moisture that caused my heart to lurch, and bring a familiar, small smile to my lips.

Because I knew she would do her best to save me. A me that would never become the rusted monster that I am today.

And how do I know this?

**_Because I am the only EMIYA Shirou that sits upon the Throne of Heroes._**

**_My Master had saved each and every instance of that sad, pointless existence through every line of history that had ever existed._**

This one too, I knew would be saved.

I only had to wait for her to finish her statement, to memorize once more the proud, shining eyes of the girl I'd long given my heart to an uncountable number of lifetimes ago.

**_I have my answer, Rin._**

"Don't worry, Tohsaka." I replied to her affirmation with a real, heartfelt smile. "I'll try my best from now on too."

And before this container, this copy of my soul, faded away, I would once more see the vision that would always stay my hand from fulfilling the mission my memory deficient copies would champion.

The sound of a girlish sniffle, the sight of tears trailing down the cheeks of eyes I could no longer see.

This, more than anything, I held tightly to my chest.

To subtly package into the depths of my next instance of the _Fake Hero_, **_Counter Guardian EMIYA._**

"Ah." I said, looking up into the rusted wheels churning in the darkened sky.

"I'm trying to do the best that I can, Rin." I chuckle softly, closing my eyes and feeling myself being pulled once more.

There would never be a moment of rest for my true self as long as humanity existed.

But this time, as I felt the pull on my soul to a slightly more distant location, I prodded the walls of the encapsulating container to forcibly push in just the tiniest bit of my true will into the core of the shell.

Wherever I was summoned next, I'm sure that this small part of me would do well.

* * *

**Fuyuki, Japan  
09/21/2005  
****_EMIYA (FALSE)_**

… and so I found myself summoned atop a pile of trash.

The fact that I was summoned atop a pile of broken furniture was familiar, but the _feel_ of said wooden material **was not**.

In fact, the constitution of said wooden implements were more akin to concrete and rebar than anything truly familiar in my mind.

Summoning wasn't new to me. Jumbled memories weren't new to me.

**_The familiar heat of a burning city that I could clearly see was the one memory I could never forget._**

This event more than anything else was the beginning of my path on the road to becoming the cursed existence that I am today.

I'm not even sure when I found myself standing upon the burning wreckage of Fuyuki's _cursed_ district. Nor am I certain as to _why_ I started walking towards the flames.

_"... hello…?"_

I only knew that I **had to**.

Foot after leather and steel clad foot, I walked.

The thick connection of prana that kept my body in the world weakly dragged me towards wherever my Master was.

Past the ruined buildings. Past the lifeless, incinerated skeletons.

I continued to walk in a dazed fugue, unaware of my goal.

At least until I reached the fallen form of my foster father, **_Emiya Kiritsugu_**.

From what I could see, his last moments were spent desperately reaching a cursed, mud slicked hand towards a barely breathing, red haired boy.

His golden eyes looked emptily upon the smog covered sky, any shimmer of intelligence that laid within his mind, burned out like a used coal that had been left unattended in a grill.

_"__...Kiritsugu…"_

Emiya Kiritsugu was dead. As of this moment, it was a statistical impossibility that the existence known as Emiya Shirou would follow the hypocritical path of a Hero of Justice.

The catalyst that imprinted upon him, lay dead, his lifeless eyes full of pain and a deep regret that will never be lifted.

All I needed to do was move on and leave the dead and dying bodies. It may not do me any good. The likelihood of a paradox occurring from me slaying this empty cadaver was non-existent, but there was enough in me to believe _saving_ any version of myself to be anathema.

No. I only needed to turn and walk away from it all until the next time I was called-

_"__...please…"__ The voice that had been desperately pleading in my ear, whispered with her dying breaths._

_Breaths filled with despair that overshadowed the droplets of hope that yet clung to the shadowed darkness._

_Breaths that _

**_pushed_**_ against the shattered, incomplete memories of my mind._

_"__Oniichan-" _**_Her_**_ voice begged. _**_That was not what she said_**

_The voice of a girl whose name and face I could no longer remember. Only that her eyes shined like the eager glisten of honey scented red crayons and hair as colorless as snow._

….

_"__Please…"__ A familiar voice I'd never heard in all of my existence, begged the world._

Damn it. It's not **_fair._**

**_How could I, EMIYA SHIROU, turn away?_**

And so I knelt down next to the unseeing eyes of a dying boy, his skin charred and blackened from the curse driving fires that were even now weakening amongst the soot and cremated dust ridden shower freshly falling from the heavens.

"What do you expect me to do?" I wondered, half to myself and half towards the **_insistent pull_** I'd been feeling since I'd arrived.

No one answered, and the boy whose breaths were slowing on the sizzling ground next to me didn't have the mental faculties left to do so.

I wanted to chuckle. I wanted to _laugh_.

Staring up at the gathered storm clouds, all I wanted to do was lean back and blank my mind from the yet one more event I had no power to stop.

The child who was not, nor would _ever be_ Emiya Shirou, would die.

Regardless of the intent of the being whose prana filled my being drawing me towards this location, there was precious little I could do.

Among my arsenal, there was but **_one_** tool I could possibly use to heal the dying boy. The man who would've been his foster father in another life was already far beyond help, but there was no life to be saved here.

Even if I _could_ Trace a copy of the Holy Sheathe, one that I've long memorized since I'd first witnessed it, it would do little to help the assuredly dead child without the presence of a woman whose face I could scarcely recall.

_"__Please…"_ The voice begged once more.

Desperate and fading.

With all her that was left of her, the voice **_pleaded_** for the grace of the **_sword_** she had called upon.

But there was nothing _I could do_.

Nothing I could do but **_try_**.

**_"I am the bone of my sword."_** I whispered, but the beginning line of my personal aria boomed loudly across the world.

I grasped onto it, searching deep within the reaches of myself.

To find that first memory of Kiritsugu placing Avalon within my heart.

The obvious didn't come to me at that moment, far too gone within my own soul. Instead, my hands **_crackled_** and my circuits, **_grew hot_**.

I'd found it with almost no effort. I knew the path that lead towards Avalon as surely as I knew exactly where upon the Hill of Swords Excalibur rested.

Static filled my eyes and the pounding of my false heart filled my ears.

No matter how much prana I'd been given, regardless of the overflowing **_sea of power_** I'd been connected to…

**_I would never have enough to bring forth a copy of inhuman perfection_**.

Among many, it was these two paired artifacts that I would _never_ be able to bring forth.

_"__Please."_

But I had to try anyway.

I could no more stop myself from answering the despairing hope of a woman I'd never met, but most assuredly was connected to in life and death, than I could deny the tiny, shameful part of me that still acted as the core of my being.

**_I wanted to be a Hero._**

**_"Steel is my body, and fire is my-"_**

"Hold!" **_Her _**voice called out, desperately from my side as **_her_** gauntleted arms pressed down on my raised and steaming hands.

By my side, **_Saber_** shattered the outline of the projection I had only begun to bring forth into reality, and instead, pushed her near translucent and fading arms into the chest of Kiritsugu.

A chest that parted in a gate of warmly glowing gold as **_my partner_** pulled out **_Avalon_** from the depths of his dead heart.

"I ask of you…" **_She_** gasped, holding onto what semblance of existence she had against the depredations of Gaia.

"Will you be my Master?" **_She_** begged with a fierce, but simultaneously broken expression marring her beautiful face.

Above the body of my younger self, **_Artoria Pendragon_** tried and failed to push Avalon into his body, her own arms passing through **_Avalon_** and barely able to keep their shape as the motes of prana making up her body floated away into the cooling air.

My answer came in the form of my own arms grasping hers and pushing down her now fully corporeal limbs against **_Avalon _**into the heart of a boy named **_Shirou_**.

"Yes." I replied just minutes later as the two of us sat, watching as the sheathe healed the burnt boy of his wounds and steadied his breath into something resembling life.

We remained silent, feeling the hot rain falling upon our armored bodies, never looking away from a pair of golden eyes that had begun to grow warm with life, but remained coldly detached at the dark sky the boy had continued to gaze upon.

"Thank you, Hero. I owe you a great debt." Saber muttered softly, bringing an armored gauntlet to place it upon the now healed hand of the boy whose own digits wrapped around hers.

"Mm." I grunted, knowing better than to answer her in my usual sarcastic method.

Saber was _my _**_Servant_**_._ There would be time later to close myself, to needle her as I had wished I could in my youthful memories.

But for the time being…

**_I had to trample once more upon my ideals and throw them away. There was no room left for those foolish ideals in the type of Hero that I was so desperately called upon to be._**

"Who are you, Hero?" Saber asked.

"I am **_Ruler_**. And the **Fourth Holy Grail War** is now over" I replied.

_"__Please."_ The voice said once more before fading against the pitter patter of rain.

I would fulfill the dying wish of the woman who had called me here. To save what I could of her **_family_**.

**_How could I not?_**


	2. Interlude 1: Artoria

AN: All my stories are meant to be read with music and accompanying picture links. As ffnet doesn't allow for hot linking, feel free to follow the links on my pat-re-on page (/konamikode) and read my stuff as it was intended :3

Interlude 1: _A Knight and Her Master_

* * *

_"Master? Could you… tell me more about her? Your… mother I mean."_

_"Her face is the first living thing I remember seeing, Saber. Her eyes were so empty, so despondent. It was like she was only moving because something was forcing her to live."_

_"Master?"_

_"I remember feeling pity. I wanted to… help her. Do something for her."_

_"I wanted her to _

**_live_**_, Saber. Not just _**_exist_**_, but for those dead of eyes hers to brighten like I know they should've."_

_"Something told me to take her hand in mine that day, and for the first of many times… I saw it, Saber."_

_"A bright, emerald forest filled with _

**_life… and I knew._**_"_

_"That I had to become a _

**_Hero_**_. Like _**_him_**_. The second set of eyes I remember seeing."_

_-Emiya Shirou, 2015_

**Artoria**

I had fallen to my knees in despair, looking upon the disintegrated pedestal upon which the grail had sat, cursing Kiritsugu with all my being that he had forced me to destroy the one thing I had desired most.

But perhaps… this was the price of my dishonor. To come so close, but to lose all that I had fought for at the end.

I had fought on despite knowing what had become of Lady Irisviel.

The one person who I'd come to call friend during my time in a future I was never supposed to be a part of.

I had acted to fill her desecrated corpse with the spirits of dead heroes. All for my selfish desire to change a single, catastrophic event in history that had seen my kingdom come to ruin.

All because I became King of Britain. All because I pulled Caliburn free of its holy mooring.

I believed, as my body began to fade away, that this was my penance for the tarnishing of my knightly oaths.

And then I looked up into the sky and saw what lay underneath the destroyed remains of the _Holy Grail_.

**_A crimson tear in the fabric of the world, full of pain, hatred, and a longing for the suffering of humanity._**

**_The thickly spewing curse of all the collective sins of mankind._**

_What have I done?_

_What have I been so desperately fighting for?_

_How many lies have I told myself in my justifications that my path was a righteous one?_

**_What evil had I been about to unleash had Kiritsugu not stopped me from claiming the grail?_**

And so I stood, holding tightly to my slowly vanishing body and **_walked_**.

I could not fade away now. Not yet. Not when there was still the possibility someone, **_anyone_** had survived the firestorm of death.

How could I allow myself to return to that timeless place where I lay dying when I had caused so much **_evil_** to manifest from my own selfish desire?

I could not. Before I was a king, and before I was a person…

**_I am a Knight._**

I had promised to protect Irisviel, sworn upon my blade and honor, and yet my very actions had caused her demise.

I could not live with that, the tatters of my honor were forever forfeit.

I was close, oh so close to plunging my own blade into my heart in despair but for the tiny trickle of familiar prana that allowed for my unnatural existence.

_"Saber…"_ I heard her voice calling me, pleading.

There was none of the expected condemnation, the accusations of my failure. Only the desperate emotion of a woman who hadn't yet lost hope for the one being that kept her in a state of cruel life beyond death.

Illyasviel.

The image of an innocent girl who had waved goodbye in the cold reaches of northern Europa filled my mind.

They were not my memories, but of Irisviel's last, _final_, memory of the daughter she would never see, never hold ever again.

I didn't need to be a sage to understand, not a knight, or even a **_King_**.

I only had to be that young, boyish peasant squire full of childish dreams to understand what my task was.

What my oath to Irisviel required of me.

Go to her.

I had to go to Illyasviel.

Thus, I stood on transparent legs I held together by sheer force of **_will_****, and walked.**

_I don't know how long I walked through the burning city which had so astounded me when I first laid eyes upon what humanity was capable of given time._

_Anything could be destroyed all the same by the evils brought forth by men. And each step furthered the growing burden of my disgusted sense of _

**_shame_**_._

_Where was the honor in this?_

_Where was the honor of battle against the true heroes of history I was promised?_

_All I tasted were ashes of broken dreams and the familiar _

**_lies of existence_**_._

_I, who in my hubris had thought to be the very embodiment of chivalry, had once more forgotten that human nature was a sickly curse that brought low any who attempted to hold themselves to a childish, _

**_foolish_**_, standard._

_When Caliburn had shattered in my hands, I thought myself learned and wisened of my hubris. That my learned wisdom had destroyed all pretense of unsightly _

**_pride._**

_How foolish I am to have thought I was any better than the common man._

_Is this hellish rebuke not the result of mine own hubris? To have believed this war would be a chivalrous battle between the heroes of all time._

**_I should have known better._**

**_War makes savages of us all._**

Or at least…

At least those were the thoughts the cursed weight of the burning, **_hateful mud_**, had piled atop my shoulders.

Thoughts that flaked away as did the thick, cloying mud atop my pauldrons once I saw and stepped towards the unknown **_Heroic Spirit_** who was doing his utmost to save the life of a burnt, dying half corpse of a child.

My steps were uncertain at first, my eyes watching with disbelief as the familiar shape of **_my sheathe_** began to materialize from the outstretched hands of the **_Hero_** who had thrown away all sense of propriety to kneel in the dirt.

The dirt which seemed fit to seat a **_True King_**. Such was the presence I felt, the sheer **_unyielding grit_** I felt wafting off the broad shoulders of a **_True Hero_** who cared not for his station atop the commons.

No.

The red and black clad**_ Hero_** gave no pause towards the thought of the cloying ashes of the immolated dead that were pressing through the fabric covering his knees. Had not a care of how the still steaming curse of the _Holy Grail's_ very mud he had sunk himself into in order to save the boy at his side.

The same mud that was beginning to powerlessly flake off of my shoulders had **_never once marred the Hero who was doing his best to act as a True Legend forever shrined upon the Throne of Heroes, should._**

**_How despicable._**

**_How truly despicable of you, Artoria._**

**_That this Hero, this King, had never given a thought for the shackles of propriety while you yourself was weighed down by the cursed mud flowing from the dead corpse of one who you'd vowed to protect._**

I could see it in his expression, the only _drive_ he had was to save the innocent boy who had been caught in the result of **_my failure_**.

His eyes, nose, and ears bled. Whatever _magick _he was employing, it would surely cost him the life he had been given. Bringing the _false _**_Real_**_ copy of Avalon forth would surely kill him were he to fully manifest it._

_But the _

**_Hero_**_ cared not._

His was a fresh, newly gifted existence in a world where heroes shouldn't exist.

I knew in my heart of hearts that he was freshly summoned for a purpose I didn't know.

But whatever purpose he was tasked with, **_he had thrown it away in a heartbeat to save the life of a child he neither knew nor had reason to save beyond the fact that the boy…_**

**_Wished to be saved._**

_'What am I doing?' _I thought, the last, cloying grasp of the cursed mud flowing off of my form as I sped forward, intent on saving this **_True Hero_** with all that I **_had_**.

Damn my kingship.

Damn my pride.

And damn my selfish desires.

As of this moment, I was _nothing but a squire_ who had discovered a **_Master_** whom I would wholly give my life and soul to follow.

And so I asked as I dared to push aside the **_Hero's_** inevitable death with my small, blood soaked hands.

**_"I ask of you, will you be my Master?"_**

He needn't have replied for me in my infantile understanding of the code of _heroism_ to realize his answer.

His reply to my question was the gentle wrapping of his large, bronzed hands atop my own to push Avalon into the heart of a dying, pleading boy with hair the color of fire and eyes cast from molten gold.

With the contract made, I pushed all the prana I had to spare, _and more_, to fuel the forge that lay behind the eyes of the dying boy whose eyes locked with my own.

I'd scarce felt such joy, such purity of being when his small hand grasped the bloodied, armored gauntlets of my unworthy fingers.

"Who are you, Hero?" I'd asked, strength filling my heart and wonder filling my voice.

To serve such a Master, I knew.

I knew that _everything would be all right._

**_That was the presence I felt under the proud, fractured blade known as the Wrought Iron Hero.  
_****  
"I am ****_Ruler_****. And the Fourth Holy Grail War is now over." **He replied.

A true **King** indeed. I had no words to speak, even if I could have uttered them in that timeless moment as the soothing rain fell and washed the last of the Grail's stains away from my form.

And then I stood silently, rising alongside my Master with the boy I… **_he had saved_****, **carried gently against the slightness of my bosom.

My armor was not required. I doubted I had the right to wear it at this moment.

In his presence, I was that very same girl I had been before I'd pulled the Sword from the Stone.

_'I could be nothing else.'_ I'd thought without the shadow of my shameful hubris.

And so I followed the tall Hero, saying nothing as he found and placed a sliver of golden metal into his chest.

A piece of the grail, I'd felt along with the _actualization_ of the Hero who called himself **_Ruler_**.

"There's someone that I have to save." He'd said.

And I followed.

I followed him all the way to Germania with a red haired boy's hand held firmly in my unarmored hand and watched as he laid waste to the meager defenses of the land where I'd first been summoned.

I watched without emotion as he returned with four children. Two teenage homunculi that were newly born at best, and a small, familiar form of a girl whose pale hand who gripped tightly against the red cloth of the Hero's coat.

The fourth child whose eyes seemingly wailed within the crimson eyes of her prison, flecked gold momentarily as snowy hair turned a soft shade of pink for but a moment.

The boy, Shirou whose hand still gripped mine own, followed along behind me as we treaded through the snow behind the path Ruler had dug past with his own, larger strides.

And so Illyasviel was saved, not by my hand, but by the white and black blades of the red clad hero _who was not yet finished._

From the embedded pieces of a newly growing grail that laid dormant, but aware within Illyasviel, another was born under the ministrations of a magus whom Ruler contacted and cornered not long after.

I felt the piece of Irisviel planted within Ruler's heart hum in contentment as I watched a girl with skin as bronzed as Ruler play with two other children.

The stoic boy who did his best to corral his elder, more boisterous sisters.

And a girl with hair and skin as pale as snow as the three innocently ran along the grounds of my former Master's home.

A former Master who shared the family name of the Hero whom I'd pledged my sword to until the day I was no longer needed.

"Saber?" He asked, undoubtedly wondering about the small smile that made itself visible along the corners of my lips.

"It's nothing Ruler, just enjoying the pleasant peacefulness of the day." I said, kneeling with a warm cup of tea in my hands as I gifted my Master, **_Emiya_**, with a small smile.

"Hungry are you?" He asked, implying that he had indeed noticed my eyes glancing towards the kitchen where he was preparing our midday meal.

"...indeed." I replied, banishing the soft flush that had overtaken my cheeks at being discovered.

But I firmed myself.

I would soon face yet another obstacle that would require all of my skill and attention in the battle to come.

Like young Illyasviel and Chloe, I had yet to master the eastern art of utilizing the dining implements my Master calls, 'chopsticks.'

It was good that young Shirou was more concerned with passing his skills to his elder sisters.

I am sure that Ruler would be more than happy to instruct me in the ways of his people, sardonically put upon expression and all.

"Oi! Lunch!" He calls out, pushing a small stool with his leg so that the children could step up towards the counter and carefully reach the steaming dishes he had skillfully prepared one after another.

I of course, sat at my place at the low table, carefully watching as three children and their elder neighbor named Taiga eagerly ran back into the house and began setting the table as had become habit in the last month of our stay within the Emiya household.

Lunch was as hearty and fulfilling as it had been everyday I'd spent alongside my Master.


	3. Chapter 2

AN: All my stories are meant to be read with music and accompanying picture links. As ffnet doesn't allow for hot linking, feel free to follow the links on my page pat-re-on (/konamikode) and read my stuff as it was intended :3

* * *

Chapter 2: _Another Mouth to Feed_

* * *

**_EMIYA_**

With Saber's prana thrumming through the sympathetic connection between her and Avalon, it didn't take long for the boy she had loaned her Noble Phantasm to recover to a level where he could be safely moved.

Artoria had volunteered herself to carry the small child, stating her chivalric duty of protecting the innocent as well as keeping the hands of her Master free.

There was a somewhat… _different_ connotation to the definition of Master than what she had before, but it proved to be a boon I wouldn't question.

It kept my hands free as I frisked the corpse of my foster father for his valuables, including the small talisman he'd kept on his keychain meant to allow access through the bounded field of the Emiya property.

It was true that the Einzbern manor would've been a superior destination for two Heroic Spirits and an emotionally dead child to recuperate and plan the next… _however long_ the single, small, and uncorrupted as far as I could tell, piece of the grail I'd lodged into my body would keep us tethered to this world line.

Even now it warmed my breast with a steady, familiar line of prana that powered my form.

But simply _existing_ would prove troublesome without documentation. That was something I had experience in fabricating, and the Einzbern manor which lay in the depths of Fuyuki's mountainous forests would be perfect for keeping prying eyes away for months, perhaps years.

Unfortunately, the existence known as Emiya Shirou was a third rate magus at best, even one crafted and formed from the image of a broken Counter Guardian of Alaya.

I was in no way familiar enough with Illya's old place of residence prior to the year we'd spent together in the home Kiritsugu had wished to raise his family.

In a perfect world, my older sister and I would've grown old and buried next to the ashes of our father.

Only I continued to live after Illya died a scant year after the 5th Grail War.

Just one more catalyst among many others that saw me throw away my youth in the chase for an unachievable, impossible ideal.

So instead, Saber and I leapt across the rooftops towards the familiar streets of the home in which I'd grown and died far, far away from.

The Emiya Property, a land and buildings used as a cover and tertiary safehouse by Kiritsugu.

The home I'd spent my childhood.

"Master?" Saber asked quietly, unwilling to raise her voice lest the boy sleeping in her unarmored arms would wake.

I shook my head, allowing the feelings of nostalgia to fade away as I pressed the key I'd taken fro Kiritsugu's body against the lock of the main entrance.

"It's nothing. Just ancient memories." I replied just as quietly.

I didn't care whether the boy awoke or not, but there was no point in waking any snoopy neighbors with the unfamiliar voices of strangers.

Seeing the gate open and the large, empty, but well cared for garden before me, I recalled flashes of memory where an exuberant, but annoying older girl would spend much of her time making my life difficult.

Neither Kiritsugu or the girl could cook a meal to save their life so it'd been up to me to make sure my savior and the hyperactive leech who'd stuck to my side and wished for Kiritsugu's 'adult' companionship had sustenance that could support life.

There was myself as well, but my health and continued survival had always come second.

Maturity, I'd been told. The… brown(?) haired teenager had said as much even as I remembered my father watching me with sad, understanding eyes.

Saving my life had saved what was left of the shattered spirit of Emiya Kiritsugu, but it didn't take him long to realize that in the end, he'd saved _nothing_.

He never spoke of it as he grew weaker, even up to the day of his death, but he **_knew_**.

He knew that what he dragged out of that cursed fire wasn't a functioning human, but a **_fake_** that slowly subsumed the mannerisms and social habits of the people around him.

The day he died, looking up at the stars. He didn't die in comfort when I had foolishly accepted the burden of his broken ideals.

His eyes were just as empty as they'd always been. And the small smile on his face that I'd mistaken for relief, was something altogether more mundane.

It was relief. Relief that his pain would finally end combined with the last bit of strength he had left to do the only thing he could to ease the mind of an unforged sword with my own conclusions.

No, that smile was a lie. A lie meant to comfort a boy he could no longer see, no longer comprehend as something that came out of that fire as something that could barely pass as a human being.

Emiya Kiritsugu had lied to himself in his final moment. Pretended that his life had meaning.

If only he'd been strong enough to die with a truthful frown on his dying lips, maybe my life would've ended differently.

But that wasn't something I could change. It would forever be a moment of history where I could never reach unless the incredibly unlikely event of myself being summoned at that exact moment were to occur.

So instead, I walked past the veranda, spirited away my boots, and gestured towards the now open rice paper door.

"We can rest here for the time being. We can speak more of our plan for the future in the morning…?" I raised a brow as Saber cocked her head and looked at my bare feet resting on the wood of my old home.

"Why have you taken off your footwear, Master? Is it some sort of custom to do so?" The heroic spirit of the sword, _who should've been informed of this cultural difference from the Grail_, raised a questioning brow.

"Yes. It's a custom in Japan to take off one's footwear before entering a person's home." I replied in explanation before narrowing my eyes. "Why don't you know this?"

Saber flinches back as if struck, her eyes widening and cheeks flushing as she begins to stammer. "W-we had no such custom in my era, how could you expect me to know-"

She blinks in realization, lips parting as her jaw drops ever so slightly. "The grail… it isn't…"

"It's not feeding you information of the modern era." I note, closing a single eye and lean against a wooden pillar with my arms crossed. "But you can still speak Japanese fluently?"

"Yes…" She nods, speaking carefully with her emerald green eyes narrowed in concentration. "I believe I am able to read and write in the language as well, but I can no longer access further information about this country's history."

She sighs softly, the single, rain slicked strand of hair that parts her bangs shakes in response. "But then how are we still here if there is no grail? The amount of prana I can feel from you hasn't drained in the slightest."

She continues the mutter to herself before her eyes light up and comes to the same conclusion that I have.

"The piece of the grail that you kept, it must be acting as an anchor for our spiritual forms!"

I nod, responding to her exclamation with no small amount of confusion.

I'd barely been aware when I'd picked up the small sliver of golden metal that had pierced Kiritsugu's body. My actions at the time were completely automatic, knowing that **_I had to absorb the shard if I was to stay bound to this time without a Master of my own._**

As if in response to my thoughts, I could feel a soft warmth growing in the depths of my chest where I had pressed the fading motes of metal as it had instructed.

_"__Ruler."_ She whispered, a small, content smile appearing in the back of my mind.

…

But how long would such a small piece of the Greater Grail last?

Regardless of the power it'd drawn into itself from the leylines formerly connected to it and the heroic spirits it'd drawn into itself, it would be a finite amount.

In short, the most important resource to mine and Saber's continued presence on Gaia's world, was all but an unrenewable fuel source.

There were precious few magi I would trust myself to, much less someone as naive as the King of Knights.

So this meant…

"Keep your prana use to a minimum and put the boy to bed in one of the upstairs guest rooms." I sighed, switching out my combat clothes to the black slacks and dress shirt that had become my iconic wear out of war.

"And what of you, Ruler? Where are you going?" Saber asked, her boots already fading away into the night.

"I'm going to purchase ingredients for tonight's dinner and tomorrow's breakfast. We need to keep our prana expenditure as low as we can." I snorted, placing my hands in my pockets before walking towards the nearest all night grocery chain I'd discovered as a child.

Well, the JUSCO that I frequented had been finished in 1995. Given it was 2005 in this world, I might as well see if it's still there.

It was fortunate I didn't need to order Saber to stay behind, she'd made that decision herself as the only other body capable of looking after the sleeping boy, as inept as she was sure to be in said task.

Someone of my coloring and height walking the streets of Fuyuki in the dead of night after a district wide fire would garner enough attention without a blonde, girlish foreigner who couldn't be older than sixteen.

* * *

It appears that the timing of my return was most fortuitous.

Otherwise I'd never be able to memorize the image of my partner hemming and hawing over a kitchen faucet's ability to fill a bucket.

It should be left unsaid _why_ she's so fascinated with the marvels of modern man she'd only just begun to have time to utilize, but as for why she was filling a bucket with warm water?

I assume because she wished to wash the boy down of grime lest he get sick. It should've been known even in her time that cleanliness was effective in combating the 'plague'. She filled up the tub and woken him instead, but I guess old habits are ingrained-

I nearly slap my face and just barely stifle the understanding groan.

_She's doing this because she doesn't _**_know_**_ better about modern conveniences._

I don't believe she knows how a bathtub works or even what most of the things in the bathroom _are_ given that I doubted she'd ever had the need to _use_ said facilities.

'Kiritsugu, you were a _terrible_ Master.' I thought with a long sigh, ruffling the back of my hair as I thought of all the things I'd have to bring my partner up to speed with.

"Master! You've returned!" Saber smiles awkwardly, flushed at having been caught poking and prodding at the faucet with curious eyes. "What bounty have you requisitioned from the city's merchants?"

"Just some of the barebones. Eggs, flour, salmon, mackerel, bone in pork shoulder, apples, potatoes, rice, beans, napa cabbage, radish, chicken thighs, miso paste, soy sauce, dried anchovies, konbu, salt, pepper, cumin, turmeric, coriander, chili, ginger-" I began automatically rattling off the ten or so full bags worth of my basic of basic staple of kitchen ingredients before noticing the swirling eyes of my Servant.

"Ah… too much?" I ask, snorting in good humor.

Artoria refocuses, shaking her head rapidly before refocusing her widened eyes between my face and the many bags held in both my arms.

"Th-there's so much _food_, Master! How in God's name did you purchase so many ingredients in such short a time!? It must've cost you much coin- **_Yen_**, to find a vendor who held all these items at such a late time! Even if I am a **_King_**, I am more than used to peasant fare from my time as a squire-" Artoria quivers, her shoulders struggling to maintain their firm, knightly composure.

She gives in, her arms pulling themselves in to rest her bunched up fists under her cheeks as she stumbles to look closely at the bags of groceries as if they were made from solid **_gold_**.

…

Which might not be far off the mark. Some of these ingredients would've literally been worth their weight, or _beyond_, in precious gemstones or metals in Arthurian England.

_"These vegetables, they look as if they're freshly picked from the earth! And these meats, such a variety in fowl, hog, and _**_seafish_**_\- n-not to mention this Duke's ransom in spices! And the 'iced cream!?' To think you've bought such an impossible delicacy on top of this literal feast of opulence, I _**_cannot_**_! It would be a grievous sin for a Knight such as myself to beggar my Master due to my own gluttony-"_

"Ahem. Saber." I try not to compare the failing image of a wide-eyed girl trailing her gaze along the bags I'm shifting in my hands to the unyielding perfection of the woman who'd seen me through the 5th Grail War as an idiot kid.

"Uh, y-yes Master?" She blinks and pulls back with a flush on her face. One that grows as she noticeably gulps the building saliva in her mouth and her belly growls loudly in demand for food.

I can't help it.

A snort, small and quiet as it is, escapes my lips to echo loudly in the comparative silence of a sleeping residential zone.

I have enough memories of at least having been _raised well_ to tactfully look away and bite my lip even as my shoulders shake.

As for my partner, she breathes deeply, primly gathers the leftover tatters of 'kingly' dignity, and trots off towards the boy's resting area at a quick pace.

I wordlessly pick up and hand her the bucket and cloth she'd left behind a minute later as I begin the process of unbagging my inventory.

She flees slightly quicker this time, almost spilling the water in her haste to hide away her burning cheeks from my entertained gaze.

A familiar line comes to mind, if slightly modified and meant for someone other than the crystal blue eyes of a girl whose voice and near featureless face haunted my tangled memories.

_"My my, Saber __Master__. How cute of you."_ I said aloud, just loud enough for burning red ears to hear and with enough amusement that I can see her shoulders jerk momentarily.

She stays upstairs for far longer than it would take to wipe down an unconscious child, much longer the boy had woken up and helped speed along the process by asking where the bathroom was.

From the way the water of the faucet skips a beat, it appears that my past self has found the bathroom.

As for Saber, the fact that the distance between our connection hasn't moved much in the past twenty minutes means that she's probably still upstairs with an unused bucket sitting innocently next to her folded legs.

_Fufu._

It might be somewhat against my personal pride as someone who has spent a not insignificant amount of time feeding various, faceless strays, but part of the cooking process is to _entice_ a diner to eat the dishes I've prepared.

It might slightly dry out the chicken thighs, but I lift the lid from the saucepan a little earlier than I normally would, turn off the ceiling fan, and allow the aroma of pan roasted chicken to waft upstairs.

Naturally, hot air rises and it takes with it passengers. This case in the form of a scent that is sure to draw a cautious, but completely unprepared lion into the cage I have prepared.

I feel the way Saber's prana shifts, as if she's physically turning herself round and round in an effort to stop herself from being drawn towards the delectable scents emanating from the kitchen, or proudly holding her position away from her insufferably rude Master.

She holds out just long enough for the louder than normal clinking of plates to begin thunking on the dinner table before her will folds, and soft, unsure footsteps begin to make their way down the steps before pausing.

"... _Boy_." I call out, refusing to turn my head and meet my eyes with the burning gold of my past self who had come downstairs dressed in oversized pajamas to wait patiently at the table.

"It's time for dinner. Bring that foolish girl down before she wears a groove on the flooring." I grumble, waiting until the boy has silently left before wiping my hands and bringing the last of the plates to the table.

I hear a singular voice arguing against the one word message the boy had passed on to Artoria.

Hmph.

If she wishes to remain difficult, I have yet to truly open the armory of techniques I can use to goad my Servant down the stairs.

Or so I had thought.

"Master." Saber greets nobly, all but forcing the world to ignore the boy who had led her downstairs by the hand until she was comfortably seated next to him.

"Saber." I reply evenly, raising my brow when she keeps control of her badly twitching expression as a simple dinner of pan roasted chicken thighs, potatoes, quick pickled cabbage, rice, and a mild bowl of miso steam their scents towards her heavily breathing nose.

I can _see_ the fragrant steam being pulled through her nose, almost as if she's trying to gain sustenance by breathing in the air surrounding the food rather than actually _eating_.

Her stomach growls loudly, but she is determined to maintain her pride.

She opens her mouth to speak, probably to demand an apology for my poking of her childish character when a small stream of drool makes its way past the damn that is her formerly closed lips.

"Just eat, Saber." I say, rolling my eyes as the frozen girl looks as she's torn between hurriedly wiping her mouth, maintaining her unapproachable decorum, or fleeing back upstairs to curl underneath a comforter.

"A-as you say." In the end, Saber responds in grimly admitted defeat before picking up a set of chopsticks.

With one stick in both hands.

…

"Do you…" I trail off, raising a single, incredulous brow as the Servant of the Sword, the legendary Once and Future King of Britain, watches a child of less than a decade dexterously use the chopsticks that had been placed in his side, dig into his meal.

"Need a fork?" I finish, unable to do anything but stare dumbly as the girl refuses to acknowledge my question to instead _attempt_ to use her chopsticks to pick up a whole chicken thigh.

Only to fail, again and again until in a fit of hungering _fury_, she spears the colorful sticks into the thickest part of the chicken.

This of course, causes a spurt of hot juice to burst out, covering the front of her white corset in an oily stain.

Seeing that the woman who'd brought him back to health was currently frozen in her seat, the boy hops out of his chair, steps next to the tightly wound arms of Artoria, and begins to easily strip pieces of meat from the chicken with his own, child sized chopsticks.

"Yes Master. Thank you for your consideration." Saber comments emotionlessly, what's left of her shattered pride telling her that it'd be better to accept defeat rather than be fed by a near mute boy who was eyeing his savior in **_judgemental concern_**.

I can see it forming in his slightly livelier eyes. The empty dullness of a tool without a purpose learning that the 'adult' next to him would need his supervision and help to survive.

For me it was Kiritsugu and the loud, brown haired girl who I remember grew into a complete disappointment of an older sister figure.

For this iteration of myself, it's the prideful knight who can no longer count on a magical cup to cheat her way through modern, Japanese society.

It seems that no matter the world line, Emiya Shirou must learn to feed those useless individuals who require constant care and maintenance.

It's no wonder why I never had thoughts of owning a pet.

I had several to take care of by the time I was a teenager in the first place.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: _The Price of a Wish_

_An: Brace for Feelz :3_

* * *

_"Do you wish for me to attend you, Master? Kiritsugu and I had a… tumultuous relationship, but it would be dishonorable of me not to attend on such a basis."_

_"No, it's fine, Saber. The Boy… _

**_Shirou_**_, will require your supervision until I return."_

_"Of course, Master… but, erm…"_

_"I've already prepared lunch, and I've separated dinner into separate boxes labeled as such in the case I return later than expected."_

_"But what should I do if-"_

_"Saber."_

_"Y-yes Master?"_

_"You were once a child, were you not?"_

_"Yes…"_

_"Then remember those times and imagine what Shirou would enjoy spending his time doing. Surely you can be trusted to play with and watch over a child?"_

_"O-of course Master! I may not have lived as a woman, but I have trained several squires in my time!"_

_"... right."_

_"Master, I feel as if you're thinking rude thoughts about my capability as a grown woman. Master. Master!"_

_"Don't you walk away from me! Uncover your face scoundrel! I cannot judge you guilty lest I see the devilish expression you undoubtedly sport!"_

_"Ruler! I find your unchivalrous attempt at ignoring my demands most unamusing!"_

* * *

**_EMIYA_**

Unfortunately for Saber, I never did turn around to address my amusement at her refreshingly 'charming' failure to adequately deal with her Master as I am now.

Without the golden spectacles of my naivety and youth, it was painfully easy for me to recall the growing jumble of memories.

Where Saber was once the unflappable hero I'd sought to emulate in near every instance we were together, now my recollections were tinged with humorous hindsight.

Most often I remember Saber patiently sitting at the table and statuesquely sipping on hot tea.

I had thought her be the very definition of a noble warrior who was always prepared for battle at the drop of a hat.

Now that I was far older and wiser than the partner of my youth, I could see that very same pose for what it was.

The girl had _no idea_ how to act, so she fell upon the only experience she knew.

When in doubt, sit primly, say little, and most of all, do not show anything but the slightest hint of an expression lest you be torn down.

Of course had she been summoned with her esteemed court of knights and lords, she might be able to delegate tasks she had no knowledge of to someone better suited. Unfortunate for her that they weren't, so in the end it was up to Artoria Pendragon to look after a traumatized boy who could barely remember his first name.

Whatever his family name had been, had burned along with the memories of the faces of the corpses that had been fed into the literal fire of Fuyuki.

Undoubtedly I would return to a another entertaining and brow twinging scene, but for the moment, there were things I needed to take care of so that we may live in this time.

As a Servant, I didn't require sleep. I'd spent most of the past week raiding Kiritsugu's safehouses, stashes, speaking with his business associates, and quietly creating identities for myself, my servant, and the boy who had come into our care.

As I would become known as 'Emiya Shirou', the last remaining relative of Kiritsugu's by way of a half English descendent of an uncle who had moved to England, so too would another 'Emiya Shirou' once more be born from the climax of a Holy Grail War.

Confusing as it may become, neither the boy nor I had any desire to be named other than our given identities.

Him because it would be anathema for the existence that was currently being hammered into shape to lose the part of him that had stayed with him through the process of being rendered into malleable ore.

As for myself?

Irritatingly enough, I felt much the same as my younger counterpart did.

It was **_unthinkable_** to live life as something other than what I was, regardless of being a **_Faker_**. I am who _I am._

And so, in order to make the resources Emiya Kiritsugu once had into my own, I would be attending a farce of a funeral where I doubted anyone besides myself would be present for.

Neither of the two old men whose children I vaguely recalled being friends with would show themselves either. Kiritsugu had only met them after the war if the lack of documentation of their psyche profiles in his personal files was any indication.

Truly, Emiya Kiritsugu had lived a lonely existence until his encounter with Irisviel von Einzbern.

Everything in his carefully warded workshop had politely asked that everything he had, would be left to his daughter in death.

It was a pledge I intended to honor as soon as our living situation in Japan was stable.

**_The countless blades plunged inside the depths of my soul, rang hungrily as rusted steel flaked to reveal the pristine steel beneath._**

At least here, Illyasviel von Einzbern would be able to live a long, full life. That much a fake hero like me could do.

C̴͎̰̻̫̝̳̗̹͐͆͐͋̑̀͊̍͐̿͆̉͝͠ͅȏ̶̡͇̘̗̺͎̼̣̝̮̻̪̳̹͗̊̓̿̔͗̊̀͑͠ͅu̴̢̪̮͎̖̣̻͇͇̺͓͉̞͛̾́̾̓̉̃̈̐̕̕͜͝͝l̶̢̧̡̛͕̞͙̙͇̠̖̬͇̩̎̈́̑̍̌̈́̔̀̒̒͝d̷̼̄̊̑̇͊̾̚ṅ̷̢̨͍̫͈͕͇͍͚̥͖̲̀̆̀̃͂͜͝ͅ'̸̢̧̡̛͈͈̰̼͔̼͖̦̦̲̳̅̈̑̎͑̓͋͌͊̂̏̈́̌͘͜t̴̢̹̜̻̞̮̳̘͙̣̱͉́̒̍̏̂̇̑̅̃͛̀͘͠͝ ̵̧͈̼̱̞̯̝̰͈͚͖͍͕̯̟̎͊͒̑̇̽̌͛͂̑̕s̸͍̱̯͓͎͍̄̈́̏̽̇̆͝͝͝͝t̴͍̟̤̳̂̈́̔ö̷̧̝̖͓̟̺̼̙̰̞͚̜̯̲͍́̊̀̑̈́̊͘͠ṗ̸̛̻̻̻͍͓͚͋̔̌̚͘͜ ̷͉͚̖̙̩̞̖̔͌͋̓̚͘ï̸͈͙̞̠̣͚̻̱̃͒̾̈́̌̕͝t̵̡̘̑͊̐̇̂̃̂̒̐̈́̚͠.̷̼̗̖̤̗͉̟͙̱̼̘̣̤̟̤͐͌̌́͗̓̂̀̂̈̏̓̓̕ ̷̙̥̯̯͑̀̏͌́̅̽̒C̷̢̢̪̣̠͚̩̰͈̠̆̊̉̿̓́̏̈̈́̚o̶͖̺̮̳̳̟̠̬̒̒͑̇̂̓͑̔̃̍͂̓̈́̈́̂u̶̩͉̖̺̳̫̳̦̪̰͕̹̅͗̌l̶̡̺̖̼̜̝͖̳̺̮͑ď̴̘̪͎̜̯̗̎̓̐̋͜͜͝͝͝ ̶̧̛̛̫͙̹̳̰͖̭̼͋͛̓͐͌̓̌̓̆̀͝ẖ̶̡̩̰̗̦̻̪̞̲͖͖̅̓ȃ̶̢͎̗̱̠̳͙̳̥͉͎̽͌̈́́̿̔̐͗̈̄̈̅ͅv̵̖̠̳̰̖͜͝ȅ̷̩͈̂̓̋̊͂͊͊̌̍͘͝.̷̺̻̬̰̗͕́̏͌͒̿̽͐̏͂̀̑͗̔͘ ̷̛͇͔̪͈͇̑̇̑̊̍̏̓̔̔̓͒̓̆̈́B̶̨̩͉̤̹͉̰̘͇̰̝̣̗̊͐̇u̴̧̞̲̤̣̝̝̯̫̼̩̪͎̳͌̊̓̉̒͌̚ͅt̵̨̛̲̹͈̰̺̙͇͓̗͌̃̃̂͆̾̌̓̉̂̉̚͠͠ ̶͎̦̏̊͋̍̒̃͒̒̈͆͝͝͝͠͠Î̴̺̣̼͇͔̮̔̀̌̇̀̔̀͂͐͊̉̓̚͝ ̴̱̯͈̄̈́d̷̝̘̣̲̠́̏͂̓̌͂̌̅̔́͐͘͜͝i̴̺̭̟͙̠̋̋̈́d̸̥̳̞͛̄̈ͅn̴̢̟̜̟͔̣͎̞̝̯̫̈́̐̀̂͊̀̍́͑͒̚͝'̷̧̛͚̜͎͕̘̠̤̬̞̱̹̭͐̌̆̀͋͜͠͝͠t̶̡̢̧̨̪͇͍̫̰̣̙̜̉ͅ

However, my musings would surprisingly be interrupted.

I wasn't the only one visiting the cemetery this afternoon.

Several lots over, I saw a small, dark haired girl tied in achingly familiar twin tails doing her best to push a similarly colored woman in a wheelchair towards a lavishly marked grave.

By them, another group of three people had just begun to walk away.

A priest. A small, ashen haired child, and an equally young, golden haired… boy?

S̵̞̪̤̱̤̲̣̯̯̖͈͍̓͜ͅǫ̸͕̦̫̽̓̈́͒͝ṁ̷̩̮̮̙͎ȅ̴̢̢̹͈̖̜̰̗͇̓͆̉́͌̒͌̂̇̀ͅt̵̥̪͉͙̞̺̲̼̞͍̭̎̐͋̌͆̈́̅̈́̌̊́̋͒͝͝ͅh̵̢̢̢͓͙̱̟̭͎̟̞̰̲̄̑̄̽͛ḭ̶̢̛̻̖͖̦̩̓̎̿͆́̅̚͝n̸̟̥̜̬̭͈̘̱͙͎͌̓ǵ̶̡̨̝̬̬̤͔͖̭̣̻̭̥̜̎͘ ̵̟̼͖͇̝͎͉̠́̑̂ͅl̴̨͍̦̗̰͔͖̰̱͔̯͕͎͊̒i̶̞̱̰̔́̏̀͒̍͊̀̎́̐̽͑̕̕͜k̴̡̜̗̳̦̯͍͕͚͋̓̃̌́̔̚̚͜͜ͅe̴̙͎̣͕͎̭͈̟͆͐͂̕͝ ̵̡̨̧̡̙͎͉̺̺̰̠̥̈́̈̂̀̀m̷͚̩͈̩̣͎̞͈̙̮̭͙̍͐̓͂͝ͅȩ̵̨̨̙̪̼͇̫͚͈͗͋̎̓̈́̎̓͒́̃͝ͅ,̷̢̢̯̬̫͙̗̼̣͇̳̗̗̅͋̈́̀͑̈̂̈́̈́̂͑̈́͝ͅ ̴̨̺͇̦͕͓͔̞̖̜̗̓̓͒ͅm̸̨̨͖̹̦͚̥̟̱͍̼̗̈́̅̈́́͊̈̊̇̈́͂̌͝y̷̦̻̐͑͋̄̆̕ ̸̧̛̦̭̦̪͖̹̩͚̦̰͇͔̾̎͊ğ̸̛̼̲͇͉̯̼̦̬̺̙͛́̉̊̌̄͘͜ͅṟ̴̳̰̪͖̈́̆̔̈́́̿̏̽̊̾̌̕̚͜͝ę̵̢̞̻͖̱͔̃̋́͘͘͜ͅa̷̛̛͖̣͔̘̜̝̤̔̅͂̀͛̑̿̌̓͠ͅt̴̡̤͇̖͉̪̹͕̺͙̎͐̔̀͌͗͜e̸̯̝͈̎̇́́̄̅͋s̷̢̻͍̲̬͓͎͎̖͊̉̉̊͆̓͒͝ṭ̴̹̭̹͖̿̈͗̑̉̃̊̓͐̒͠͝ ̶̭͖̬̋͊͌͆̚f̶͖̺̋̂̽͐ờ̵̫̮̱͒͒̋̈̋̐è̵̥͔̰̝̳͌͑͛͂͛̑̋̀̑̐,̸͕̦͍̲̻̱̄̆́̅̃͘͜ͅ ̸͔͕̲͔̄̿̊̄͊̔̾̐͆̄a̷̙̞̞̭̥̦͉͚̓̅̍̾̃͑̚͝n̴̡̨̹̞̼̻̣͉͔̄̔͆͂̉̊͝o̶̧̊͒̾̈́̓̕͠͠t̷̖͓͓̅̓̄̈́͝͠h̴̨̼̪̠̤̗̼͎̬̗͎̭̄̄̿̑̎́͊ẽ̴̡͎͚̘͓̩̟̝̼͋̓͐͛̈͋̐̇̽̏͌ŕ̶͓̹̜̚ ̸̡͖̻̺̘͚̰̘̮͔̇̈́͋̅͑͑̿̈́̒̈́̃́̕̚b̶͍͔̣̯̟̲̋̑́̇̆͆̅͐͐̂̿͛̀͜r̵̡̟͇͙̭͎̥̟͖̿ó̵̡͈̪̜̰͈̦̐̎̃̎͆́̇̍͒̕͜͜͠͝k̵̢͖͔̖̓́̓̽ë̵̛̦̙̳̖͖̮͖̖̭̗͚͈̎̿̀̿̇̇̎̉̎̈̓͝n̸̢͚͖͛̐̾ ̸̥͙̟̲͔̺̺̜̳̱̾̎̈̿͗̅̑̈́͗͒ͅç̷̫͔̬̱͖̪̮͔͎̙͉̳͆̔͌̊̉̐͝ͅh̵̨͍̯̤͓̤͊̿͛̎ͅi̴̳̰̜̞̠̿̓́̀͒̊̈̏͑͘͝ͅl̷͍̬͔̦̤̘̈́̿͌̈́̆̑̈́̅̀͆͌͜͝d̴̨̢͇̘͕̱͎̞̰̯̞̀̏̎̄͐̿.̶̡̼̜̤͔͓͇̭͇̣̘̀͆͑͌̈͊̈́͗̒̅̈́̏͒̅͘

Were I an Archer, I would've been able to tell at this far distance without having to reinforce my eyes, but as a Ruler with an unknown amount of prana keeping me in existence, I didn't have any to spare.

So instead, I slowly walked towards the girl and the woman who was presumably her relative, and placed my larger umbrella over the two.

It was raining today in Fuyuki, making it difficult for someone of the girl's, **_Rin's_**, size to simultaneously push the silent woman's wheelchair and keep their shared umbrella straight.

"Here." I said simply, interrupting the surprised girl before she could say anything by placing my hand against the back of the chair, and gently pushing it toward the grave.

In the seconds it takes for me to push the wheelchair forward, my left shin was kicked a dozen times, and my left arm was ineffectually mauled by a combination of clumsily swung umbrella and a tiny palm strike aimed at my side.

Instead of responding, I placed Rin's mother at the foot of the grave and respectfully stepped backwards.

But not before I had clipped my own umbrella onto the aluminum holder to shield the two from the lightly pouring rain.

"Do your best, Rin." I said, not pausing to turn around and walked away with my hands in my pockets.

.̶̫̏.̷̺͗.̸͚̊

_'̵̧̞͍̭̄͋̊̑́̃̈́́͒̆̅̈́̒͝I̷̗͙͌͆̿̇́́̓̈̎̀̈͘͝'̷̜̺̝̭͇̩̓̇̏̇͝͝m̸̛̛̟̀̀̑͛̇̉͑̌͊͘ d̵̗͑o̸͂͜ï̵̖n̵̢͊g̶̦̈́ my best too._'

I promised her and myself.

I would need to speak with Saber. She might not remember the girl whom she had thought of so fondly, but she would not deny what I'd had in mind.

It was only a matter of time before Rin found the business card I'd slipped in the back of wheelchair's pocket.

By then, whatever little damage was left on the boy's body would be healed and Rin would find herself unable to put a stopper on her curiosity, paranoia, and irate desire to find out who the mystery man was.

She'd probably start the conversation by furiously gesticulating and demanding answers before shyly offering my umbrella back.

_Fufu_

And so I walked back home, allowing the cleansing rain to soak my body as I looked up into the sky as the clouds began to part.

_Yeah._

_I won't leave home to chase an impossible, flawed dream._

_This time will be different._

The rain starts up again not seconds later.

Damned E-Rank luck.

There is nothing else of note that occurs, no other ghosts of the past I meet.

Only the passing of another small family of three dressed in dark clothes and passing across me on the street towards the cemetery.

And old, hunched man slowly walking with a cane.

A young boy, his seaweed like hair matted down with water.

And a young girl, whose straight, purple hair that is secured by a familiar red ribbon is kept dry by the umbrella her brother is holding over her head.

It irks me that her blank, dead eyes are filled with the loss of childish innocence, but I can only ignore it and continue walking.

Ḩ̷̡̢̧̥̳̠̬̲̙̗͈̱̺͖͙̬̤̪̲͇̲̘̜͕̟͙̱̠̦͖͖͆͊͂̐̐̓̐̌̈́̋̌͋̽̎͘͝͠͝ò̵̧̧͉̞̥̙̻̣͖̙̱͚̠̘̘̎͘ͅw̴̧͎̹̫̪̪̝̹̺̦̪̩̼̘̻͊͑̑̄̔̐̏̚ ̷̢̡̧̢͉̺̬̭͈͎͖̦̞͎̦̝̗̮̰̼̝̮̫́̔̄͊͒̑̉̽́́̀̂́̕d̸̡̨̛̯̲̘̙̳̤͔̱̼̮͕̙͈̱͖͓͒̔̊͋̄͌̿͂̄͒̅͋̌́͗̆̀̄̿̿̒́̋͜͜͠͠i̸̛̞̪̪̺̲̝̓̏̐̐̔͂̃͑́͒̓͋̏̀̕͠͠͝d̷̡̨̨͙̯͚̪̤͎̟̩̯̩̼̜̯̥͉̠̙͓̲̠̟̯̺̤̙̻̖̞͉̉̽̊̊̍̊̃̊͐̓̓͋͑͊͝͝ ̶̘̙̰͚̫͉̖͎̦̦͈͒͆͋͒̏̾́͑̉ͅI̶̧̢̪̟̪̦͔̣̰̪̱̬̙̱̞̲̟̹͈̝̤̹̥͉̘̮͓̋͗͊̓͜͝ ̷̡̡̗͇̰̪̜͇̩͇̯̯͚̮̝̩̩͍̍̃͋͐͗̊̇͂̆͆̍̌́̋͑̏́̋̏͗͗̂͋̏̕͠͝n̵̨̢͓̜̞͈͈̘͕̝̘͈͉̮͓̮̬͈͉̪̮̩͎̤̠̿̈̅̔̽̾̇̿͌͒͐̐̑̈́̀̿͋͒̌̚e̶̱͎͇̙̗͇̥̩͖͚̖̠̫̓̓̽̽̊̌̓̉́̈́̄͆͘͝͝͠ͅͅv̸̡̝̳̓̎͗̒ͅȩ̵̢̢̤̫̭͇͎̮̺͓̯̪̋̆͋͛̇̽ͅŗ̸̜̼͔̫̦̙̦͖̯̩̦̹̥͉̌́̐͑̄͗́̓̃̊̚͜͝ ̸̧̡̛̻͍̞̲̩͚̩͓̻̮̞̲̂̈́̎̐̿͗̓̉̔̒̆͝͝͝͠n̷̨͚̰̲̱͙̣̮̣̯̻̠̳̜̳̗̣̱̝͇̬̦̫̳̓̐̇̄̆̾́̍́͘͝͠͝͠ơ̶̢̦̥̖͍͍̮̣̯͖̩̙̻̤̲̭͉̯͔͕̙̯͊̌̄̈̒̅̾͛̒̇͘̕ţ̶̧̧̛̛̞̩̳͚͓̳̰̩͚̫̜̀̿̽̀͑̾̿̎̓̂͗̇̈͌̏͌̄̎͛͐͊̅͂͗͠͝į̶̨̢̛̛̛̟͇̭͖̤̜͍̲̜̪̫̦͍̱̺̰̠̬̱͓̝̺͉̌͐̔̇͋̒̋͋͒̆̌̈́̂̿̀͒̆͗̃͂̃̊͆̕͘͘͝͝͝͝ç̶̧͕̖̬͙̲͎̺̓̓̊̊͛̅͑̾̊͑͆͛̆́̍͒̒͂̅͒́́͂͋̈̑́́́̔͘̚͠͝͝e̵̙͊̋̿̑̌̕̕.̴̧̧̡̨̺͖͉̤͇͇̯͙̖̼̤͍̰͈̫̖̹̮̺͕̫̠̖͉̤̟̋͊̅̈́̆̋̽̓̀̆̔͘͘ͅͅ

_'I'm sorry.'_ I wished to tell the empty girl.

Not everyone can be saved.

I would know.

The fake hero who tried to save everyone, but only ending up staining his hands with far more blood than he'd ever saved.

…

_So why did my fists remain clenched and teeth remain grit on the short walk home?_

* * *

_"... I believe in you."_

_"Shirou-kun..."_

_"You're not alone."_

_"My brave, heroic boy."_


	5. Chapter 35 (Shirou)

Chapter 3.5: Through Empty Eyes 1 (Shirou)

* * *

**_Shirou_**

Tea.

Something tickles in the back of my mind that it was something I didn't like before the fire. But as I took another, mechanical sip of the beverage, that memory fluttered away and crumbled like a burnt sheet of old rice parchment.

Tea was…

Okay. I didn't like it, nor did I dislike it.

But the motions felt right. Like I was _supposed_ to move.

"This is fine tea, Shirou. I didn't think one so young as yourself would have the ability to brew as you do." The woman who calls herself **_Saber_**, sighs softly and offers me a small smile.

"I just did what **_Ruler_** did." I replied succinctly.

There was no awkwardness to my deliver, no emotion behind it.

I was just notifying her as to how I learned to do as I did.

Something about the man drew me to him. Like just being around and watching him interact with the world was the key to filling the empty, burnt places inside my mind with everything I needed to be _whole_ again.

Last night, I watched with a single minded focus as Ruler brewed our after meal tea and I _knew_ that I could do the same.

So I did.

Tea was something you had with a meal. I knew this. So it was something I had to do as Saber was not familiar with the stove.

_I needed a purpose so I made tea._

It was difficult at first, not because I misremembered how the necessary steps, but because in the beginning, I'd been far too short to reach the pot.

Like my arms weren't as long as they were supposed to be.

Jarring, but not insurmountable. I just needed to take my time and think about the automatic movements my hands wished to make before compensating for my lack of height and reach.

It took me a little longer than Ruler to pour two steaming cups of the fragrant beverage, and I'd almost poured a third for someone that wasn't here.

Not Ruler.

But someone else who used a pink teacup.

The cup I'd used to pour Saber's tea was _wrong_ as well. I'd tried to find the tiger print mug that I _knew_ was in the cupboards, but it wasn't there. Yet at the same time, I felt that the unadorned, white coffee cup had been the vessel I'd desired in the first place.

The mug I'd meant to find was meant for someone with a wide, emotive smile and warm, chocolate eyes.

Or at least that's what I told myself.

I think I should be scared, but I can't find it in myself to feel fear anymore. It's still there, somewhere the rest of my emotions as the raw, weeping burns slowly scabbed over to scar as I knew they would.

"Did you enjoy your meal? Ruler is a pleasingly skilled warrior against the great enemy." Saber hums, interjecting once more as the silence of the room grew too long.

I nodded in affirmation. I didn't know if I enjoyed the bento of tonkatsu, rice, and takuan, but I didn't dislike it.

Hunger didn't bother me, but it was good that there was one thing I could easily fill. I wasn't sure what she meant by the great enemy, but she didn't ask me to answer that so I won't ask.

"Did you like it?" I questioned back, curious if she thought the food Ruler provided was good.

"Yes, very much. The rice left to warm in the cooker was just as fluffy and delicate as what I imagine clouds would feel on the tongue. The… _tonkatsu_, was very satisfying. While fried foods previously made up a large portion of my diet, never have I bit into something so delightfully crunchy yet juicy. That it was _pork_ Ruler had created this magnificent dish with is liable to become overly tough and dry due to the leanness of the cut, the meat remained just resilient enough as to not pull apart until firmly bitten down upon. And the sour sweetness of the strange halfmoon vegetables, their almost translucent flesh of sunny yellow added such a beautiful color to accompany the meal. As if the side was meant to artistically enhance the dish as much as the juicy crispness of the vinegar-"

Saber continues to speak glowingly of the triple stacked, extra large bentos she'd completely devoured slowly and meticulously over the course of twenty minutes.

It surprised me that she was taking just as long to describe the food as the memory of our lunch brought the very same smile upon her face that had remained there until our meal was finished.

There was something I thought was contentment followed by the shortest of moments where a small, dissatisfied twitch of her lip was carefully concealed under the mask of propriety she wore.

I knew it was a mask because the first time I'd seen her, half-mad eyes of broken emerald green had looked like they were just one step away from falling to a place where she'd never come back from.

_'I don't want her to look like that.'_ Were the first thoughts I remembered having after being saved.

And looking oat the truthfulness of the glowing joy that shined through the lost luster of what I could imagine be vibrant eyes full of life…

I wanted to see Saber's eyes light up.

I wanted to see **_everyone's_** eyes look upon the world with dazzling wonder and joy.

I never wanted to see another empty pit full of despair **_ever again_**.

**_Like his before he died._**

"Saber…?" I asked, interrupting the woman as she was speaking of the complex balance of flavors that never once felt imbalanced regardless of the amount eaten at once.

She blinks twice, tenses minutely, and hides her reaction by taking a slightly longer sip of tea than normal.

"I apologize, Shirou. It appears that I have been shamefully swayed by my gluttony once more." She sighs, a breath of tea warmed air blowing the steam away from her cup. "Is there something you wished to ask? To do?"

Did I?

…

"Yes." I nodded, the beginnings of an endless, empty hole being filled one crumbling pinchful of dirt at a time.

"Would you like to… play? I am not well versed in children's games, but I _am_ a **Knight**. And as I recall, children from those of peasants to great lords were always fond of the sword. I could teach you…?" Saber tilts her head questioningly as I stand and dutifully begin running the tap.

There were dishes to do and I needed to fulfill a purpose.

"Could you teach me how to cook food?" I ask, stepping up to the small footstool so that I could lather up a sponge.

Saber who had followed curiously behind me, stiffens slightly and coughs while trying to avoid eye contact.

"I-I… well…" Saber stutters, here eyes blanking at some horrifying memory.

"... I know how to make mashed potatoes… and parsnips… and carrots… and peas… and-" She sways on her feet and her shoulders slump as something I instinctively know is terrifyingly horrible is being remembered.

"Then I'll ask Ruler to teach me." I reply.

_"!"_

I'm not disappointed. There's not enough of me that is _me_ to feel anything but a twinge of _something_ makes its way to show on my face-

"Shirou." A soft voice and a softer hand finds itself on my shoulder.

"I will teach you, as inept as my skills are compared to my Master." She says, her eyes glowing beautifully when paired with the small, uncertain smile she now sports.

**_Something real and living_**.

_That_ is the expression I want to see on someone's face.

If I can be the cause for other people to smile…

**_Then maybe I can feel that way too._**


	6. Chapter 4-1

Chapter 4-1: The Father Who Taught the Son, the Boy Who Became the Man

**EMIYA**

Dinner had been as uneventful as my journey home from Kiritsugu's ceremony. While I was somewhat confused as to why we now had several day's worth of potatoes mashed into containers that now filled up an entire section of the refrigerator, it was something of an unexpected boon and personal amusement.

So Saber _did_ know how to cook, if barely adequately.

She had looked upon me guiltily when I walked in and stood stunned to see the counter filled with bowls of freshly steaming mashed potatoes, but I'd waved off her embarrassment and got to work with the cling wrap.

Both her and the boy hadn't come out of their culinary battle against the twenty pound bag of russets unscathed, however.

"Go clean yourselves up." I ordered, shooing the two who had somehow splatted more of the starchy root vegetables on their forms than I thought strictly possible.

Saber had made an ineffective attempt at convincing me she didn't need to use up precious water by bathing, but her pleas fell to mum silence upon a single, silently raised eyebrow from myself.

Twenty minutes later, both her and the silent, empty eyed child had come back down the stairs dressed in the cheap clothes I'd purchased at the beginning of the week. Their hair still steaming from their shared bath, both boy and unaging woman had blinked at the immaculately clean kitchen whereas before it looked like a warzone from a humorous 'cooking' show.

Silently, before words could be said, I pointed a tanned finger towards a large bowl of tangerines that I'd provided as a snack and turned back around to finish dinner.

There was plenty of potato that needed to be used, so in the end I'd went with a main dish that Artoria would've never had in her time despite it coming from the same region.

A hearty, extra large shepherd's pie that took up near a whole slot in the oven, cream of potato soup, and a healthy side of freshly pickled cabbage to go with the sourdough I'd prepared days in advance.

It was a meal that one could describe as made with the mentality of frugality, but the enlarged portion sizes that Saber and I needed to keep our prana consumption to a minimum made the meal as expensive as one would pay for a family sized dinner at a restaurant.

It was a drop in the bucket to the funds Kiritsugu had spent his life saving in his personal bank account, much less the offshore facilities that kept much of the money he'd earned as the Magus Killer. But that didn't mean I could afford to spend cash casually.

I didn't know how long I had, but at least for Illya's sake, I wanted to leave enough for her and any family she may choose to start, could live comfortably for the rest of their lives.

Yet balancing the books and crafting a shopping list based on necessity was something I'd learned to grow fond of in life. As a youth I'd always been frugal and most of the money I'd inherited was saved for my own work as a wandering 'Hero'.

_Hmph_.

I would need to liquidate a few more assets to ready my old home for comfortable habitation, but I was nearly done with that task.

The plane ticket to Germany had already been booked and a rental car would be waiting for me upon arrival. Now I just needed to tie up some loose ends and I'd be ready to retrieve Illya from the Einzbern's within the next week.

Such were the thoughts running through my head as we finished our meal and Saber put the boy to bed at my behest.

But despite my Eye of the Mind, I hadn't expected Saber to softly walk back downstairs and make her desire for a conversation with me, known.

"Ruler. I have questions." She begins some minutes later as the two of us sit comfortably on the porch, our tea steaming silently under the moonlight.

"Hrm." I reply, neither receptive or disinterested.

My Servant had been patient for this long and while admirable, I'd never felt the need to confide in her my broader objectives or my identity.

She was curious, I'm certain.

"I wish to know how you came to share a name with not just my former Master, but of young Shirou as well." She starts with a firm, steely gaze that never once shows any desire to bend or look away.

But curiosity darted wonderingly in those emerald eyes of hers, and her inhuman Charisma was never something I was truly able to ignore as a human.

However, I am a Heroic Spirit, lesser though I may be in comparison to a historic legend like King Arthur of the Round Table.

"Does it matter?" I deflect.

"Yes." Her eyes narrow fractionally, not in displeasure, but in recognition of something I'm not privy to.

"You and him are very alike. And by him I mean both Shirou _and_ Kiritsugu." Saber speaks, watching me carefully for a reaction. Anything at all.

When I continue to remain silent and instead opt to drink my cooling tea, she continues undaunted as her words begin to come slightly faster.

"The resemblance between Shirou and yourself goes beyond purely physical. Your mannerisms are also eerily similar, but that can be explained by him desiring to emulate his caretaker...s." Here Arotria fumbles her words momentarily, perhaps only now fully realizing what that means.

"But as for your likeness to Kiritsugu… your methods of logical rationality bordering on villainous is one in the same." She finishes, looking away as if she's remembered something distasteful.

"... if that is all?" I note in an off handed, disinterested tone.

Saber shakes her head, but gracefully stands anyway. Her footsteps are near silent as she ghosts past my side to return indoors, but pauses at the entryway.

A sense of hesitation drips off her frame for a moment before she girds herself and makes a parting comment.

"I've had dreams, Master. Of a boy who was saved by the hands of a man who should be dead. To have become a hero in the modern age…" Saber mumbles, her posture softening only for the shortest of instances. "You should be proud… Shirou."

She makes no mention of the teacup that has been all but crushed in my grip, droplets of liquid running down my arm and onto the wooden deck. Instead, she softly closes the sliding door behind, leaving just a hint of it open as an unsaid allegory that she would be here to listen to my story whenever I was ready to divulge it.

…

"Proud? A **_Hero? As if._**" The growl building in my throat instead releases into the air as half hearted sigh, my dry hand moving to brush back my bangs that had messily begun to lean forward in its natural look.

_I deny it. Without a shred of doubt, I'm no hero._

_What I can't deny is how right it felt for her to call me by a name I wished to never have existed._

"Damn."

…

Before I could think further about the mistake I was making, I pulled out my phone and purchased two more tickets on the flight to Berlin.

Saber was my Servant, but I remember so very clearly that we were more than that.

Though I never was able to break through the impenetrable exterior of her heart, we were close all the same.

Partners.

Artoria would never forgive me if I left her to look after the boy, and suddenly came back with Illya in tow.

She would never forgive _herself_ for having missed the opportunity to at least partially pay the debt she felt was owed to Irisviel.

* * *

_"Will you keep him safe?" The woman with hair as white as snow, and eyes as red as rubies asked weakly._

_My friend begged me.  
_

_"I will." __I promised._

**_I Li_****_ed._**

**_I Failed._**

**_"_****_Liar. You killed him. You killed me. You. Saber._****_"_**

* * *

You weren't the only one dreaming, Saber.


	7. Chapter 4-2

Chapter 4-2: Großer Bruder

AN: Lots of pictures and music are supposed to be embedded here so I highly recommend reading this on Sufficient Velocity.

* * *

**EMIYA**

"Take a left here, there should be a small road ten miles or so into the forest." I instructed Saber, having long memorized the route to the ancestral Einzbern home from Kiritsugu's notes.

It'd taken us four days of driving to reach the remote wilderness where what remained of the powerful clan of magi dwelt. A journey I could've made myself in a quarter of that time had instead grown into something of a sightseeing tour for Saber and the boy's sake.

With my younger self's growing interest in cooking and my Servant's glutinous stomach, we'd taken several, **_long_**, detours in various small towns and villages to fully enjoy the culture of Germany.

By culture, I mean food.

I'd been powerless to deny my Servant's desires, not after she had started leaning on the excuse this would be a good experience for the empty-eyed child. As far as she knew, he hadn't _wanted_ anything until he had begun to watch me work in the kitchen.

It's difficult for me to recall if I myself had started learning so quickly after being saved, but I do know that the me of that timeline had desired only a single thing.

If indulging Saber and… _Shirou_ for a few days was all it took for him to set upon a different path, then I would gladly do so. If his dream ended up being something noble and _theoretically possible_ such as ending world hunger, I would support his goal wholeheartedly.

There was nothing hypocritical about wanting to feed people. Even if what I had seen of his untested mettle within the battlefield of the kitchen was…

Well, that was a skill he would polish with time and experience.

The way he had eyed the plane food offered on coach with a spark of disdain, hinted highly that he had already changed somewhat.

Watching Shirou eat, I myself began recalling the 'meals' Kiritsugu had cooked in those early days before he grew too sickly to move. I'd eaten without complaint, only noting the taste to be undesirable, but filling enough to keep my body alive.

The Emiya Shirou of this world would likely immediately toss said sustenance into the garbage without a second thought.

It was just one more bright glimmer of burgeoning hope that this world line would be _better_.

"Should we keep driving, Master? My riding skill is sufficient to make unpaved terrain meaningless." Saber spoke, drawing me out of my thoughts as the car slowed where the path ended.

Eyeing the mist with my reinforced gaze, I found that I could not pierce the fog of the bounded field with my sadly lacking magecraft.

"No. We'll walk from here. Doubtless that the Einzbern will act upon our intrusion the moment we enter their bounded field. We will have to trust your innate magic resistance to navigate in the meantime." I said, exiting the vehicle and forcibly stopping myself from projecting an anti magic noble phantasm to cut a path forward.

"Of course, Master. Come along Shirou. Let us go see how your sister fares." Saber smiles kindly, taking the young boys hand in her own as the three of us push past the thick fog.

It would've been the more economical choice to have left him in Japan, but it was debatable if it was a safer alternative.

While my own life hadn't been targeted until the 5th Grail War, it was impossible to know what changes had been wrought by my summoning, Saber's continued presence, and the death of Kiritsugu.

Under the care of two Servants, I doubted there was much that could threaten my younger self.

And so the three of us moved forward with the young child between us. The fog that had so thickly wrapped within arm's length of my body, had been all but banished in a perfect sphere of a hundred, sunny meters around Saber's exceptional magic resistance.

It didn't take long for us to draw close to the ancient castle in the distance.

Neither did it take much time for a number of combat homunculi to make their presence known. A bristling wall of shining halberds etched their forms and histories inside my armory, many being only as old as their wielders.

Jubstacheit von Einzbern had sent _children_ in all but form, to defend his home.

"Halt! You trespass on Einzbern lands! State your business!" A girl with the voice and body of an adult, steps forward to address us authoritatively. Her combat adapted form, likely powerful enough to duel with a weaker Servant, holds an unyielding grip on her sword as she points it our way with dangerous intent.

**_Hmph_**.

Before she can react, a projected blade materializes from beyond the range of peripheral vision and _smashes _her sword out of her hand in a shower of sparks.

Stunned, the Einzbern homunculus can do little but blink dumbly, staring at her empty hand before wide, surprised eyes beginning to fill with fear, looked back up to lock her crimson gaze with my own steely gray.

_A show of force was required._

**_"Companion."_** I whispered and the image of a hammer falling caused a pulse of prana to surge through my left hand and into the sheathed rapier I'd traced before we entered the fog.

Sensing an attack, the lead homunculus' mouth opens in warning, but whatever she was about to say is aborted when a disbelieving gasp is drawn unwarranted from her parted lips.

The sky had suddenly darkened as the afternoon sun was unnaturally blotted out by the numberless mundane blades I had called into existence. In the sky they hung, their deadly points aimed unerringly at the breathless two dozen homunculi who could only stare up at certain death.

"We have business with the head of your house." I informed in a bored tone, the gleaming steel of over a thousand blades lay dormant in the sky, held aloft by two glowing circuits worth of prana.

Held in my left hand was a copy of the sword of Donald McBane. A legendary fencer of the near modern era who had fought in over a hundred duels. The sword, which had crystalized into a legend, shared its name and origin with the book "The Expert Swordsman's Companion."

Companion was a basket hilt sword that had an anti-army ability. Specifically, it creates a glittering rain of a hundred mundane swords for every enemy its wielder faced in battle, each one a copy of a sword whom Mcbane had defeated and taken in his life.

I only had to utter the second part of its incantation for the unmoving steel in the air to rain down on my hapless foes.

**_Companion growled hungrily in my grasp, eager to shed blood._**

While normally I could create the blades myself with less of a cost, I would rather have the enemy think that I was a powerful magus with access to a noble phantasm, than one who could create swords on command.

Image, subterfuge, and mystery. These would be my primary tools I would use to protect my interests while staying clear of a sealing designation.

"Well?" I state more than ask, the arrogance of a magus with mysteries strong enough to use a noble phantasm in conjunction with having the prana capacity to maintain a **_Servant_**.

"... who are you?" The girl asks, lifting a hand to order her companions to stand down while she held my gaze with more than a little fear.

That her eyes continually attempted to flicker towards Saber with disturbed confusion and growing 'comprehension' told me all that the facade was working as intended.

With my desired message being received, I stopped feeding prana to Companion and felt the strain of using its ability vanish along with the blades in the sky.

Left hand still resting on the hilt of the traced noble phantasm, I took a single step forward with an expression that would belong more on **_Lancer's_** face than mine.

"Emiya Shirou. I'm here for my niece." I stated, and my lips ticked upward with just the tiniest hints of true satisfaction even as my mask grinned widely.

Those homunculi who had the capacity to _feel_, did so with shocked expressions. The woman in front quickly began whispering under her breath, likely communicating with the doll that had commanded the Einzberns since the 2nd Grail War.

* * *

Knowing that victory would be difficult without substantial losses even if Saber _wasn't_ at my side, the Einzbern guards had quickly fallen into formation and escorted us into the castle.

It was likely they would have thrown themselves upon Artoria and myself had they been told to, but Kiritsugu's notes had pegged Jubstacheit von Einzbern as a logic driven man with everything not regarding the Grail War or the Third Magic. Thus he made the sensible decision to not waste material in a battle he would lose, and instead, moved to maneuver the man who admitted to being Kiritsugu's brother into a position where the Einzbern patriarch could gain _something_.

He had no intention of _giving_ Illya away, not without receiving something in return.

That I was willing to negotiate at all, would put the assumption into his mind that Illya was _worth_ something to me. Enough that even a magus of my obvious talent and power had chosen dialogue instead of simply having Saber cut a path forward.

That we hadn't slaughtered everyone in our path in a bid to retrieve Illya would tell him that either I wasn't confident in a victory, that I didn't wish for her to be damaged in the ensuing battle, or because I was one of 'those' kinds of mages who actually had a heart.

As in, I didn't want to mindlessly destroy the people and home my 'niece' had grown up with.

In any case, the imposing figure of Jubstacheit von Einzbern awaited us in the throne room of his castle and cooly watched our approach.

"I had understood that your lineage had died out with Kiritsugu. Was I misinformed?" The old man begins, his tone never once changing from the cold, even tone of someone who had long sheared off everything but for a single remaining task.

"We weren't particularly close." This was true. More than a father, Kiritsugu had been an existence who I wished to emulate, if only that I could…

_It doesn't matter_.

"We went our separate ways at an early age. Our beliefs became… _incompatible_ as we grew older." This was also true.

"Then why are you here? If it is an heir you seek, it appears you already have a child to pass your mysteries unto." The old man speaks, eyes glancing towards Shirou who passively gazes back.

"Just because I hated what he stood for, didn't mean that I didn't care for him." Again, true. I felt a fondness towards the man who saved and raised me. "His will stated that he had a daughter. And that he wanted her to have a chance at a normal life."

I pause and narrow my eyes.

"She will not receive that here. So I'm here to take her away from here, and raise her in your stead."

The old man's craggy face, wrinkles further with the smallest motion of displeasure. "She is my heir. And the next vessel of the Holy Grail."

"As if you couldn't just make another." I scoff, shrugging my shoulders in an obviously loosening movement.

"Let's cut the shit. You know what I want. So tell me what you want so we can end this charade." I grunt, placing a hand on the hilt of my traced sword.

Saber stand placidly at my side even as an unseen current wind begins to ruffle our clothing.

Jubstacheit von Einzbern simply remains seated, continuing to watch with his expressionless gaze even if he holds out a hand to stop the bristling homunculi guards from acting rashly.

"Perhaps we can come to an accord." He begins, folding his hands together. "A suitable replacement for the vessel can be prepared, but I have conditions."

"Name them."

"The first is that Illyasviel will keep the von Einzbern name."

I agree wordlessly with a nod, already suspecting the direction this will go.

"The second is that she will be trained in magecraft by you in order to prepare for the next Holy Grail War that is to take place in ten years time as a Master." At this he nods towards the sword held in my hand followed by glancing at Saber.

"Much like Kiritsugu, it seems you are an… accomplished magic user, perhaps even a proper magus." This is the first time I see the true stirrings of emotion from Jubstacheit as he nearly spits his admittance that my adoptive father was exceptional in his ability. "I will send two homunculi with her so that she can be trained in the Einzbern's mysteries as well as your own."

"... continue." I say, not agree, but not disagreeing.

Like hell I'd let her fight, but I allow the glint of 'greed' to appear on my features.

"Third. You will act on behalf of the Einzbern until the last Servants remaining are yours and Illyasviel's own." This he says with some reluctance.

Most likely he believes that I desire the grail for myself, but won't cripple myself by training a subpar ally.

It's probably the primary reason he wants Illya trained in the Einzbern's magic. An ace in the hole that she can use against me when the time comes.

"Mm. And?" I say, a tone of disinterest carefully being bolstered with a small hint of curiosity.

"You will agree to swear upon a Geas that you will not betray or attempt to sabotage Illyasviel's chances at participating and winning until the both of you agree that the alliance has ended between you." He finishes, leaning back slightly in his throne.

…

"It's honestly not a bad offer." I admit.

Both of us got what we wanted. I get Illya and an 'ally' in the Grail War and he gets a better shot at winning said war while ensuring I can't stop Illya from training either.

While she wouldn't be able to live a normal life, neither would Jubstacheit be able to hold onto his 'heir'.

The trade is more in his favor, but…

Well, it doesn't matter.

Illya was sure to suffer under these terms, but at the very least she would have some happiness. And if I could last long enough for the lesser grail to activate…

_I had a real shot at winning_.

The grail only needed seven servants to manifest a wish and finding a way to purify the grail wouldn't count as going against the Geas. In time, I could convince Jubstacheit that of the corruption within the greater grail and…

"Grandfather?" **_Her voice called out, ever so distant, but oh so close._**

I paused at that moment, my tentative agreement based on further negotiations dying dead on my lips.

I had heard the slow, cumbersome footsteps of someone weighed down by pain.

I saw a **_tiny_**, fairy-like girl who could be no older than eight years of age, curiously staring down from the staircase.

_Blood, still dripping from the wounds that had been cut into her flesh, seeped thickly into the bandages of a girl who by all rights should be bedridden. A girl whose life had been cut short by the machinations of this old, _**_unfeeling monster of cold logic and horrible pride_**_.  
_  
_'__What am I _**_doing_**_?'_

**_I felt the forges of my _****_inner world_****_ come to life_**_, my hotly running blood eagerly providing fuel as I remembered promising my sickly older sister that I would live a happy life. Even as her body fell apart from the mystic surgeries performed in her youth, she held on long enough to draw that oath from me._

**_An oath I made under cold winter snow. An oath whose word I kept even if I failed its spirit in death._**

"Who is it Grandfather? I-is it Kiritsugu-" _My heart thrums and burning fire fills my circuits as her expression falls._ "... oh."

Her bleeding, frail arms grasps at the guardrail, the strength brought by hope turned to weakness and ash at her disappointment.

**_Upon the barren land of my soul, fresh snow begins to fall from sky as dusk turns to night._**

**_The ever present smog that covers the bleak landscape of my distorted reality is suddenly swept aside in a surge of icy frost._**

**_By memories.  
_**  
**_Memories of Illya._**

"Who are you, mister?" She asks from the top of the stairs, her normally exuberant tone burdened by the pain her body must be feeling.

_The sound of rusted gears began to churn in the ears of all those present as the representation of my soul began pushing on the boundaries of this _**_fake reality_**_._

_I will answer Illyasviel von Einzbern's desire in the most honest way possible._

**_Within the eye of my inner world, a perfect, untouched dress of white and red falls to rest upon the ever shimmering steel of Excalibur.  
_**  
**_I am the bone of my sword._**

"I am... **_Emiya Shirou._**"

_**And **_**_My body is made of blades._**


	8. Chapter 4-3 (Illyasviel)

Chapter 4-3: Through Empty Eyes 2 (Illyasviel)

* * *

When Grandfather told me that Mama and Kiritsugu weren't coming back, I felt something break inside me.

I didn't want to believe it.

So I didn't.

Mama and Papa were both okay. They were just taking their time coming back home to celebrate their victory.

Even when Grandfather had put those… _pieces_ that felt like Mama under my skin, I didn't believe him.

Mama might be gone, I now knew, but that didn't mean Kiritsugu was…

_Dead._

It was as I was looking outside the window, hoping for the warm sun to stay in the sky long enough for Papa to find his way home, I heard the maids and butlers rush off with the familiar clank of weapons towards the front gate.

_I felt the pieces of Mama inside me tremble warmly._

_It was a sign. She was only like that with me and Kiritsugu._

And so I gingerly got out of bed, and fell to the cold floor with a pained yelp.

My skin was bleeding again, but that was okay. If Papa was back, he could kiss it all better.

Right?

So I crawled to the wall, used it to stand up, and slowly walked to where I could hear voices talking. I listened to Grandfather's voice.

_He said Kiritsugu's name._

I walked a little faster, not caring about how much it hurt or how more pieces of my skin that were holding the parts of Mama inside me started bleeding more.

_The deep voice I didn't recognize took my breath away, and I almost curled up there on the spot in despair._

_But the biggest piece of Mama next to my heart got _**_warmer_**_._

So I kept walking, doing my best to not cry.

Grandfather didn't like it when I cried. He was mean. And scary.

_I didn't wanna stay here anymore. I wanted to go to Papa._

But when I finally got to the room with the big chair, **Kiritsugu wasn't there**. The only reason I didn't fall to the ground right then and there was because I was pressing most of my weight on the guardrail of the staircase.

_"Who are you mister?"_ I shook my head and asked brightly. Well, as energetically as I could with how much everything _hurt_.

Anyone the pieces of Mama had a connection this strong to could only be a good person.

I leaned my chin against the rail, looking down curiously at the suddenly still man just as much as I was trying not to collapse in front of Grandfather.

A grinding noise of something… really big started filling the room everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

"I am… **_Emiya Shirou._**" He said, the tortured groaning of impossibly enormous machines being fed the fuel necessary to churn out millions… no…

**_Bajillions of swords_**.

And suddenly, I could see the vague outline of a gear covered sky in the distance, the giant cogs rumbling hotly to melt the snow and flake off the rust that had kept them from moving for so long. And at the furthest peak, I could see him. A man whose body was run through with countless mortal wounds.

_Like his body was made of swords._

But only for a second.

The next thing I knew was that all the guards had leapt forward, only to be blown away by a storm of wind as the lady standing next to… _Mr. _**_Emiya_**, swung her arm and a singular tornado slammed each and every guard into the walls of the castle.

I couldn't count the number of cracks that sounded at that moment, but while I didn't think she _killed_ any of them, I don't think they were going to get back up.

The stranger wearing the red cloak didn't even seem to notice, his steely gray eyes almost **_burning_** at how he was glaring at Grandfather, who still sat unmoving in his big chair.

"So. Then that is your answer, the old man rumbled, and the castle began to shake.

Without answering, crimson clad man stepped forward, his hands looking like they were gripping something at his sides. I could see the outline of _swords_ starting to form in his empty fingers, but then he vanished in the crushing stone of the Einzbern castle's defenses.

The walls at the sides of the hall had shot outwards like square shaped arms and tried to smash the man who called himself **_Emiya_**, into paste.

**_"Steel is my body."_**

Only to be stopped by the appearance of giant swords that were better described as slabs of sharp metal slamming into the ground in a shockwave of force and buffeting air. The familiar blonde woman that had left with Mama and Papa, **tapped**, her invisible blade against the ground and cleared the room of dust and debris.

Standing tall with his hands tightly gripping the ghostly, half ethereal pair of matching black and white sword, the man who radiated enough menace to cause Grandfather's eyes to widen, **stepped forward**.

And while Grandfather never moved from his throne, I could hear and see his own hands clenching hard enough against the armrests that his already pale hands looked like they'd been dyed in paint.

"You dare." Never once raising his voice, it nonetheless sounded like he was screaming in a frothing rage as the walls castle began to rumble and _groan_.

It was scary. The last time I'd seen Grandfather so angry was before he put the pieces of Mama under my skin.

But the tall man who gave off the same air of subdued self assurance, seemingly felt none of my terror.

No. Not even a little.

Uncaring of the crumbling walls that were even now flowing to cover Grandfather's throne in the rough shape of a living _giant_, **_Emiya Shirou continued to walk forward._**

**_With each step he took, I could see bleeding afterimages being torn in reality. Images that showed a snow covered wasteland made up of countless graves._**

**_Graves that were pierced with pristine, freshly forged swords._**

**_"And fire is my blood."_**

It was Grandfather who attacked once more. A snake-like stone whip as thick as the largest support pillars that held up the castle, was flung forward.

But nothing _happened_.

Instead of hitting the imposingly tall warrior like I thought it would, **_Emiya_** simply whipped his arm quicker than I could perceive to the side and created another portal to _elsewhere_.

The stone whip hit the tear in reality, tore through it, and what was left of the appendage whipped the bangs of the steel haired man.

In shock, Grandfather brought the limb up for inspection.

_I could see that the limb had been cut so cleanly that the end of the whip was now flatter than a piece of paper could ever be._

"... _impossible…_" Grandfather's voice softly muttered, seemingly realizing whatever this magic was.

_The pieces of Mama that were inside me seemed to pull towards him, enough to make it hurt._

Instead of continuing to fight like I thought he would, the ancient man instead seemed to have had the fury burning behind his eyes, _doused_.

"For someone of this era to have developed something so inimical to the will of the world… Who are you? Really?" The stone giant that had once protectively covered my Grandfather in its chest, flowed away back into the familiar vision of the throne room.

He sounded defeated.

But I'd _never_ seen the light of curiosity enter his eyes like it did now.

A small, fragile candle that lit the world even as death drew close for the last iteration of Jubstacheit von Einzbern.

And in front of him now stood the shadowed form of the red clad man, the blades that had been forming in his hands finally finished in their impossibly bright white and glistening black **_steel_**.

"Just a _nameless hero_ doing his best to save what he can." **_Emiya_** said softly before unhesitatingly pushing his blades into Grandfather's chest.

The old man doesn't seem to feel the pain from the thick steel pushed into his heart, instead he almost seems to have accepted his end with a small, ironic smile.

"So I see. **_That_** is what… you…."

Those are the last words Jubstacheit von Einzbern whispers before the light is snuffed from his eyes.

…

I don't feel sad. Not really.

But I don't know how to explain why my heart hurts so much. And since Grandfather isn't here to watch anymore…

_It's okay to cry right?_

_Mama?_

The last thing I remember before falling asleep is the feeling of big, strong arms wrapping me up against a hard body that feels hot enough I can imagine water would steam off the skin.

_"It's okay Illya. I'm here."_

**_I'll save you this time. I promise._**


End file.
